Repeat
by arcadie
Summary: [one-shot drabble] Guy really likes his c.d. player and all of the c.d.'s his friends gave him for his thirteenth birthday. But now, at seventeen, sometimes he wishes that it could just play silence.


_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

**: Repeat :**

Guy likes his c.d. player. It's dirty and navy blue (his favorite color) and it might be a little old but it gets the job done. He has it on repeat every night and Guy sometimes wonders what he would do without it. It was a birthday present from the Ducks when he turned thirteen; Guy wasn't sure how they found out that he really, _really_ wanted one and he never asked. They were excited about surprising him, though. In retrospect, Guy should have expected _something_ to be up when Connie was especially quiet during his birthday party. Connie wasn't the quiet type; she usually turned silent when she was feeling particularly pleased or particularly sad.

The Ducks had started whispering to each other, trying to hide their grins, as Charlie, seated across from him, produced a package, clumsily wrapped in festive paper. Guy looked at the faces of his friends, a little confused, but accepted the gift and tore back the gaudy paper to find the portable c.d. player.

"You guys…" Guy wasn't really the emotional type at all. The last time he cried was when he was five and he twisted his ankle the first time he tried ice skating. But here he was, a thirteen year old boy, ready to start bawling. He pretended like his face was flushed from the kiss that Connie planted on his cheek and opened the box to feel the cool plastic and metal in his hands.

"I…guys…this is…" His vocabulary apparently shrunk to about five words. But his friends weren't finished yet. Guy realized that they each had a similar sized, thin package in their hands. They handed them one by one to Guy as he carefully unwrapped each of them.

The mix c.d. of indie tracks, full of artists that Guy hadn't heard of (The Leaves? The Din Pedals? And who were Haven?), was from Charlie. Connie, next to him, handed him a c.d. that was full of guys with guitars: Jack Johnson, Jason Mraz, John Mayer, and Teitur. Adam gave Guy a c.d. that was full of melancholy ballads by Coldplay, Elliott Smith, and Muse ("Good music to think to," Adam had said, laughing). Julie, ever the old soul, was the one that gave Guy the c.d. of old Beatles, Simon and Garfunkle, and Chet Baker. As expected, Portman and Fulton each produced c.d.'s filled with Nirvana, The Clash, The Doors, and Alice in Chains. The instrumental mix of various composers, ranging from familiar Beethoven to most definitely _un_familiar Janacek was from Dwayne.

Guy opened c.d. after c.d. still not really knowing what to say. And he _still_ doesn't know how to thank them for the extravagant gift, especially these days when he stays up all night with a c.d. on repeat, staring at the ceiling. He turns the volume as loud as it'll go so he won't hear his parents downstairs. Instead of the vague screams that would filter through his locked door, Jim Morrison, Matthew Bellamy, even a whole symphony puts Guy to sleep. It's a lot like having a little piece of each of his friends right there with him, their personalities somehow encased in those shiny discs.

Guy can't really ask for any better friends than the ones he's got, but he also can't help thinking that sometimes the music starts to become noise, especially when his parents are screaming particularly loudly. Sometimes Guy wishes that his battered, blue c.d. player would just play silence. Sometimes Guy could almost cry (he didn't cry at thirteen, he most _certainly_ would not cry at seventeen) from the frustration at simply how _noisy _everything was around him. But he doesn't and his c.d. player continues to refuse him the one thing he really, _really _wants now. So instead, Guy puts in a c.d. from one of his friends, all of whom he really _does_ appreciate and love.

And sets it to repeat.

**: End :**

A/N: Another one-shot drabble. But if you squint a little, the whole thing seems a lot more profound, heh. Thanks for reading.


End file.
